studiogoldie
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She doesn’t look like Joel’s, Tommy thinks when he first sees her. Or maybe it’s that the scowling munchkin nestled under his brother’s armpit just doesn’t look like Sarah — no coffee colored curls or sun-kissed cheeks pulling into a smile.
She’s so pale, Tommy thinks. Must burn something awful in the summer. He tries to squint, to see the bump of nose or slant of shoulders that ties the child in front of him to his brother, but all he can settle on is their eyes: deep, dark, sad and brown – the two of them are a matching set.
(or: ellie's never been a niece, and it's been a long time since tommy's had to be an uncle.)